


Not So Good Vibrations

by Insomniac_Knights



Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Crack af, Forgive Me, Gen, Music, No seriously why?, Pole Dancing, why am i like this?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-23
Updated: 2016-10-23
Packaged: 2018-08-24 06:10:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8360443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insomniac_Knights/pseuds/Insomniac_Knights
Summary: The Joker is shaking things up in Gotham. Cue Batman.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I... I have no excuse for this.

Gotham.

A dark gritty place in which the term red-light district referred to the entirety of the city. This was his city. Her inhabitants his charges. His to protect. His to look after.

And he, The Dark Knight, would not allow anyone to harm her.

He looked over her now, perched on a ledge, engulfed expertly in shadow. His dark eyes sharp and vigilant. This night was like many others before it but tonight was different. He had a purpose. His attention would not be diverted by common thugs and drug dealers, dead beats and strangled prostitutes. Tonight he confronted The Joker.

Two weeks.

For two weeks citizens of Gotham were found dead seemingly from heart attacks. The coroner’s report deduced a mixture of strenuous activity and over exertion. Even more strange was the connection between the victims. The deep muscles of the hips and the core muscles of the lower back and abdominal were partially or completely ruptured. Almost as if they “squatted” their selves to death. Everything about it seemed wrong to Bruce and after extensive research it all lead to the one criminal that seemed to be involved in almost all mischief in the city of Gotham. The Joker.

After capturing some of The Joker’s known accomplices he “persuaded” them to give him the current location of the erratic man. After many years of dealing with the psychopath, one would think that he would be able to understand how the Joker thought. But that was the thing, the Joker didn’t think, he didn’t plan. He just did. Without worry of consequence or anything for that matter. It was for this reason that he fell right into his trap.

 

One moment he was quietly and stealthily walking down a corridor the next moment he was assaulted by a purple mist that had him choking for breath, his vision swam and he stumbled to his knees before unconsciousness overcame him.  
He awoke to the sound of quiet laughter and an odd tingling sensation that spread throughout his body. With a start he was on his feet and assessing the room that he awoke in. It was dimly lit and in the center a smooth sleek pole ran from the ground to the ceiling above. Besides the pole the room was sparse save a small pink box near a door at the far side of the room. He looked down at himself to see that his utility belt was gone along with his boots and cloak. His lock pit was in his utility belt so he had no choice but to see how this would play out.

The strange tingling sensation he felt when he came to had yet to fade and he suspected it had something to do with the gas that he inhaled earlier.

“Hello, hello, hello, Mr. Batman.”

Bruce lifted his head to the speaker where the Joker’s voice came from, filling the whole room.

“What do you want?” He growled. He knew that the bastard was watching but no cameras could be seen. They must have been hidden.

  
“Oh Batsy this isn’t about me. It never was. Its all about you baby. What do you want?”

“What I want is for you to stop your bullshit.” He grimaced when the tingling sensation became an aggravating prickle across his skin. Was it poison? He wondered. It wasn’t the first time the Joker poisoned him.

“Are you sure about that Batsy-poo? Reeeeally sure. I know it must be really hot in that room.” Now that he mentioned it he really was hot. Very very hot. Sweat began to bead down his face and down his neck. The prickling sensation was now a hot flush that ran from the top of his head to the tip of his toes.

“You need to relax compadre, loosen up a bit. You seem so uptight so I thought I would help you let loose a little, you know. Shake things up a bit. I left you a little present in the box. Feel free to use it.”

The heat engulfed his body and he closed his eyes tightly as a wave of ecstasy crashed over him and he gasped at the sudden skin sensitivity. He could feel everything.

“What did you give me?” He ground out between clenched teeth but his question was met with laughter and suddenly music began to play and lights began to strobe, bathing the room in a hypnotic glow.

He stumbled over to the pink box on shaky legs and lifted the lid and stared down at its contents.

What. The. Fuck.

Inside were a pair of skin tight and very very short spandex booty shorts. He made to close the lid but another wave of heat rolled over him and he gasped as the skin that came into contact with his clothing tingled uncomfortably. And he knew right then what he had to do.  
He quickly stripped, discarding his armor and body suit and slipped into the shorts. They clung to every bump and curve and his firm but well rounded cheeks were partially exposed but the uncomfortable tingling sensation stopped and he could now feel a cool breeze against his heated skin.

“Shiiit.” He hissed at the newfound feeling. It was like being caressed. A million finger light touches caressing and soothing. _Was this Strychnine poisoning?_

As the music picked up tempo he realized that he could feel it. Like really feel it, dancing across his skin and resonating inside him. With out meaning to his body began to move, but not just his whole body but his lower half. With out knowing his legs spread apart and his knees bent as he dipped. The music got louder and its sounds vibrated throughout the room.

 

_Slow down, grab the wall_

_Wiggle like you tryna make yo ass fall off_

_Hella thick I wanna smash 'em all, now_

_Speed up, gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

 

Almost as if being controlled he started to bounce his ass up and down along to the music. The tight shorts clung to him and he spread his legs farther apart to get the maximum leverage. Some part of him knew that he should care, should stop, but that part was drowned out by the urge-no the need- to shake his ass like there was no tomorrow.

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

He held his hands over his head as he picked up momentum.

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

_Gas pedal_

His ass became a blur as he shook it with all he was worth. With each bounce and shake he felt wave after wave of ecstasy wash over him and it encouraged him to drop it lower, harder, and faster.  
Without a second thought he saddled over to the pole that he forgot about til then and hooked a leg around it before jumping up and spinning around it in a graceful swoop, he descended slowly with his legs spread in a perfect V. He glided, and dipped and spun along to the music until his body was gleaming with sweat and his breath came out in harsh huffs but even then he didn’t stop dancing. He gripped the pole as he continued to shake his ass. His thighs started to burn and it was at that moment he figured it out.  
The victims twerked themselves to death. Just like he was doing now.

But even then he continued to bump and grind and convulse. Just as his vision started to dim the room was filled with a green mist and he sunk into unconsciousness once more.

 

…………………..

 

6 Months Later

Bruce was alone in his mansion, closing the last of the blinds. It was Thursday or what he liked to call Twerk Thursday. Ever since he woke up in the alley completely alone and unharmed those many months ago he just couldn’t help himself. The urge to twerk would hit him at the most random times. At a business meeting, training, apprehending a criminal, even in the shower he would find himself bouncing along to the music in his head. His ipod was filled with trap and house music, lots of music that he could shake along to. Twerking was now part of his everyday life. In order to control his everyday urges he now had a twerk session every Thursday to get the most of it out of his system.

“Shall I start the music, Master Bruce?” Alfred asked flicking a panel and upon entering five numbers several poles descended and securely locked in. Thankfully Alfred didn’t find his behavior strange at all. He really was the perfect butler.

“Yes, Alfred, please do.” He had already changed into his favorite gray booty shorts with a black bat symbol right across his behind. As the music began and Alfred took his leave he swayed gently waiting for the beat to drop.

Although the Joker was his arch nemesis and they continued to fight constantly he had to thank him for this. This gift that changed his life.

For every Thursday he was no longer the Batman, he was The Twerkman.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm still asking myself why, but thanks for reading!


End file.
